


Unfair

by MistressKat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alcohol, First Kiss, First Time, Friendship, M/M, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-29
Updated: 2010-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-08 12:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is unfair. And then it isn't. Beckett and McKay get drunk together, sober up separately and move forward in unison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first SGA fic I wrote, several years ago. Still, it retains a special place in my heart. Written because the mental image of drunken Rodney stretching on the floor did not go away. Some chapters were betaed by [paisleyparadox](http://paisleyparadox.livejournal.com/).
> 
> Gorgeous banner by [megan_moonlight](http://megan-moonlight.livejournal.com/), included with permission.

_"Wouldn't it be much worse if life were fair and all the terrible things that happen to us, come because we actually deserve them? So now I take comfort in the general hostility and unfairness of the Universe."_ ~ Marcus Cole

 

 

***

 

Life was maliciously unjust.  

You lived through a period of heart-clenching fear and anxiety, spent in long meetings and in the infirmary. Briefings turned into repeats of clichés and impossible plans, where more important than what was said were the things left unvoiced. In the sickbay broken bones, bleeding bodies, exhaustion and the weight of responsibility blended into each other in a red-tinted haze of death and sleepless nights. Then somehow, miraculously, you survived another, shorter but much more intense experience where the nightmare suddenly became a painfully stark reality of now and right here. Time, precious time slipped through your fingers like water and there was nothing you could do except fight to keep your patients – and by then that meant everyone – alive, your own life only a distant worry.

All this and the universe still felt the need to remind him of the basic unfairness of it all by conspiring to bring together all the variables required for the current situation.  

Carson was drunk. That in itself was not unfair, on the contrary, considering the last months it was probably less than was his due. But as a variable... it was one of the most important ones.

 

 

*** 

 

  
Earlier that evening…

Carson was sitting in his lab, contently skimming through a pile of new medical journals Daedalus had brought during the last supply run. It was late and blessedly quiet, the article on serum tau protein levels associated with mild head injury both interesting and relevant seeing as bumps in the head were one the most common reasons people needed his services. 

A bottle filled with light brown, slightly sinister looking liquid thumped on his desk.

“Start the research now. We’re going to need the antitoxin before sunrise.” Rodney was standing nearby, his face beyond the light of the table lamp. “You’re not on call, are you?” 

“No. Zelenka’s?” Beckett asked while unscrewing the cap and taking a cautious sniff. The moonshine smelled like something wringed out of a bar dishcloth. It would probably taste worse. While re-established contact with Earth had replenished their dwindling supply of food, medicine and entertainment, US military was being stingy with alcohol and other mind-altering substances. Which was why the sneaky little Czech was still making a nice profit and, Carson suspected, not everything grown by the botanists had any direct nutritional or medicinal value.

“Who else? I swear the man brews his socks in the distillery for extra flavour – or more likely because of pure spiteful glee.” McKay was resting his elbows on the desk, his face looking tired and shadowed with stubble. Carson could smell sweat, coffee and something else, like oil and burnt circuits. He leaned back, not because the smell was unpleasant, but because it wasn’t.  

“Come on, I have some choc-chip cookies and a bootleg copy of the new Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy movie.”

“They made a movie?” Carson got up and stripped off his white coat. “Are there computer generated special effects? Please tell me they haven’t ruined it with cheap CGI…” He trailed after Rodney as they made their way out of the infirmary and towards the residential quarters.

 

 

***

 

  
That was three hours, too many cookies and half a bottle ago. And now the basic unfairness of life had re-established itself.  

Carson was more than slightly inebriated, sitting on the floor of McKay’s room. There was pleasant buzz in his head, the edges of his vision blurring every now and then, lines and angles softening until it was like looking things through frosted glass. It was all good. Except it wasn’t because it was so unfair.

As a medical doctor, that’s a genuine MD, Carson knew all about the physiological effects of ethyl alcohol. By now significant quantities had been absorbed into his bloodstream and passed on to the central nervous system where it was busy binding itself into neuron receptors of GABA thus effectively blocking inhibitory messages the neurotransmitter usually carried. Typical effects included weakening abilities to act rationally, concentrate, make judgements and control one’s emotions.  

All bad, no good, variables.

It was a warm night and the wind from an open window carried a sharp salty tang of the ocean. They had both taken off their jackets. Rodney had balled his up and was using it as a pillow, lying flat on his back not too far from Carson. Again, nothing unfair about pleasant weather as such, Beckett enjoyed mild climate as well as the next man but… Removed clothing. Yet another piece adding to the whole unfairness of the situation. 

Rodney was talking about… something. The last he remembered the subject was Russian vodka and some bar in St Petersburg McKay used to frequent. By now it could be anything; Carson had stopped listening about ten minutes ago in order to contemplate the unfairness of his life.

External factors. Cause and effect. The probability of these particular variables coinciding here and now. Astronomical. And let’s not forget unfair. So… Recent trauma leading to emotional vulnerability and an aching need for human contact. Alcohol resulting in lowered inhibitions and general relaxation. Unusually warm weather causing them to strip down to t-shirts and standard issue khakis.  

And Rodney.  On the floor. On his back. A drunk, happy Rodney lying on his back on the floor, a stream of vocalised consciousness flowing out of his mouth, hands doing an uncoordinated dance before him. Alive and less than a meter away from him.

A basis of scientific experimentation was to manipulate the independent variables in order to see what, if any, change occurred in the dependent variable. Here the universe had done the manipulating and he was most certainly experiencing the effects. 

Beckett groaned inside. It was unfair. How was he supposed to resist? He couldn’t, not like this. Drunk, warm, safe, his mind swimming in a heady mixture of contentment and yearning. It was incredibly bloody UNFAIR of the universe to expect him to.

“Man, I’m feeling no pain. Radek knows his way around the stills, old socks or no.” Change of pace and pitch alerted him that Rodney had come to an end of his monologue. 

Carson shook his head trying to refocus on the conversation at hand. “Aye. Although, I suspect the pain is not gone but simply postponed until tomorrow…” he squinted at the clock “…make that today, morning.”

McKay snorted and rubbed his face with both hands. For a fleeting moment the drunken grin dropped, his face showing the kind of permanent weariness that comes from knowing that despite the lull, the battle was not yet won.  

Beckett knew the feeling. Everyone on Atlantis did. It’s what made the rare moments of peace and quiet all the more precious.

As if reading his thoughts Rodney turned his head towards Carson, the blue eyes finding his, another infectious smile spreading across his features. “It’s not morning yet, Carson. I believe it an unwise distribution of cognitive resources to worry about it now.” 

“‘Cognitive resources?’” Beckett guffawed. “I don’t have enough of those to worry about getting up from the floor.”

“And why should you? ‘M comfortable right here…”  

And just like that the degree of unfairness increased exponentially. Rodney, relaxed and edging towards sleepy, yawned and stretched.

Carson felt his mouth go dry. He wanted to scream and whack his head to the wall, wanted to cry, wanted to crawl over to Rodney, wanted to reach out his hand and wanted… Fucking unfair. Because he couldn’t. And couldn’t not to either.  

McKay, being the inherent hedonist he was, had lifted his arms above his head and was languidly stretching, back arching off the floor. A small grunt of pleasure escaped his lips. Carson stifled an answering groan as his eyes drifted downwards. Rodney’s t-shirt had risen up to reveal an expanse of smooth skin. With his BDUs riding low it was enough for Beckett to get a glimpse of sharp bones and shadowy hollows of his hips disappearing under the waistband.

Carson knew he was staring. He was distantly aware of the warm buzz of alcohol and how he should really get up and leave but… he wanted to look and couldn’t stop himself. He needed to see this. Rodney alive and drunk and stretching like there wasn’t a care in the world. Relaxed like Beckett hadn’t seen him since the long-gone nights on Antarctica where they used to get pissed on over-priced scotch and talk until the sky turned pale pink. 

“Carson?” Rodney’s voice yanked his gaze back up.

Shit, shit, shit. He’d been caught. From the look on the scientist’s face it was clear that he knew Carson had been staring and, more importantly, he seemed to have a dawning realisation of just what and in what way Carson had been staring. Beckett was also fairly sure that the deer-in-headlights look on his own face confirmed all suspicions. So Rodney knew he had been looking, he knew that Rodney knew and Rodney knew that he knew that Rodney knew and really, why was life so unfair? Why? He was never ever again tempting the universe by drinking Zelenka’s devil juice late at night whilst emotionally vulnerable and in the presence of a certain astrophysicist.  

Beckett felt frozen on place. He should say something, make excuses, a joke, anything to break the moment but was held paralysed by a combination of alcohol and good old-fashioned fear.

McKay rolled over to his side and hauled himself up into semi-sitting position. “Carson?” he repeated, eyes searching his.  

Beckett still couldn’t move. His breath was coming fast and shallow, his heart beating thickly in his throat making it impossible to speak or swallow.

The months of fieldwork had defined the physicist’s upper body and Carson could see arm and shoulder muscles flex under the t-shirt as Rodney pushed himself up into a kneeling position. 

Time seemed to stretch. For what felt like hours but was more likely less than a minute they stayed like that. Beckett sitting cross-legged on the floor, tight with apprehension while Rodney knelt before him close enough to touch.

McKay was first to break the silence. “Carson.” It was the third time he had said his name but this time it wasn’t a question but a complex one-word statement.  

“You…” Rodney’s voice had gone rough-soft around the edges. Slowly and hesitantly his hand came up and brushed against Carson’s face.

“I… I’m sorry, I have to go. It’s late and I have rounds and really I should go now.” Beckett scrambled to his feet, his head spinning from the sudden movement. It was too much; he just couldn’t do this anymore. To stay silent and still, not to say what he wanted to say, to do what he so desperately needed to do. 

“It’s been grand Rodney. Thanks for the drinks and the movie was great, I loved it really… It was… grand. So thanks. And goodnight. I’ll see you in the briefing tomorrow, it’ll be very interesting I have a new research proposal as will no doubt you, you always do, and a lot of other people as well, I hear everyone is being very productive lately what with the resumed contact with the SGC and new resources…”

Carson was babbling, he knew he was but couldn’t seem to stop himself. It was unnerving, seeing McKay so uncharacteristically quiet still kneeling on the same spot.

“I really have to go, it’s late and the meeting you know…” He was backing towards the door with unnecessary haste as Rodney was showing no signs of coming after him. Without taking his eyes from the man on the floor Carson slapped his hand on the door controls. “So I guess I’m going to… Goodnight” He paused for a split second to wait for a response but as none seemed forthcoming he finally backed out of the room, the door whooshing closed behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

 

There was light where there should be no light. There was a highly annoying beeping sound where no beeping sounds should ever be.

There was also pain, pain where… Jesus Christ on a bike! Everywhere, the pain was everywhere! His brain was leaking out through his ears; his neck was wound up so tight he knew it was only a matter of time until the numbness gave way to more pain. Even his teeth and the insides of his eyelids hurt and his legs… He couldn’t move his legs! He was paralysed from the waist down! There had been a Wraith-attack or an accident with the puddle-jumper or… Cut down before his prime, a martyr for science, the tragic hero of 21st century astrophysics… He’d end up in a chair like Stephen!

Rodney sat up in a panic and briefly caught a glimpse of his feet futilely kicking inside a knot of blankets before falling off the bed.

The floor was hard, the high-pitched beeping becoming louder and louder. The light was also still there, particles and waves of electromagnetic radiation refracting, reflecting, interfering and diffracting off various surfaces inside the room. McKay squinted his eyes against the sunlight pouring in from an open window and groped the desk for the alarm, finally managing to turn it off.

Ow, ow, ow. Rodney struggled to extricate himself from the sheets with minimum visual input. Pain was bad. Hangover pain was worse because you knew beyond the shadow of doubt that it was all self-inflicted and therefore you couldn’t moan about it to other people and if you did you shouldn’t at least expect any sympathy.

He leaned on the wall for support and dragged himself up on shaking legs. The world swayed and so did his stomach. Unfortunately though his insides were moving in counter rhythm to his outsides. Rodney clapped a hand to his mouth and made a run for it.

He was almost at the bathroom door when a sharp pain laced into the sole of his left foot. The sensation caused him to yelp out loud, which was not helping matters as his stomach contents took the open mouth as a green light to exit. McKay desperately lurched forward and managed to clutch the toilet bowl just in time.

Five minutes later he was leaning his forehead to the cool porcelain, practically crying from relief that the throwing-up part of the morning-after-heavy-drinking seemed to finally be over.

Rodney slumped down against the wall and with great effort turned his attention to his foot which was still throbbing painfully. On closer inspection the cause became clear. A nasty jagged piece of glass was jutting from his heel. Screwing his eyes tightly shut he grabbed the protruding edge and yanked hard. Fresh tears squeezed through. “Fuck, shit, fuck, son of a…!” McKay tossed the shrapnel towards the wastebasket.

Why was there glass on the floor? His gaze traced the bloody footprints back to the source. The broken and sticky remains of a heavy bottle of something alcoholic lay next to the bathroom doorway. What the hell had happened to…?

Suddenly the memories of the previous night came flooding back with extended scenes and cast commentary. Rodney stuck his head down the toilet for the second time that morning and then he was puking his guts out again.

 

***

 

Martin Freeman was an inspired choice. Exactly as he had imagined Arthur Dent to look like; rumpled, snarky, often perplexed and alarmed by the universe around him, yet sort of… endearing, even cute. Kind of like the man sitting beside him, sniggering into a glass of… Zelenka should really decide on a name for his homebrew, ‘that evil gut-rot’ just wasn’t easily trademarked.

A bark of laughter drew his attention. John Malkovich was doing what John Malkovich did best which was being menacing on the screen, and that had obviously tickled the doctor’s funny-bone.

“Oh Rodney, this is really, really great.” Carson had turned sideways, his dark blue eyes twinkling with mirth, a wide grin spread across his features. Just for an instant his face was transformed into something dazzling and brilliant. “Thanks for this, all of it. It’s just what I needed. You’re a true friend Rodney.” He leaned in and clasped a hand on the physicist’s shoulder for a few seconds before returning to the movie.

It was like looking at the sun. McKay averted his gaze and busied himself with pouring another tumbler of Radek’s moonshine. Why had he ever thought inviting Carson for a midnight booze-and-film-fest would be a good idea? Having him so close, all dark curls and open affection, the attractive brogue thickened by alcohol wreaking havoc with Rodney’s defences.

He could feel his heart clenching inside his chest. It was more than ‘really, really great’ to see Carson enjoying himself. The real miracle here was that he was doing so with Rodney. Atlantis was full of people who would have welcomed the charming doctor in to their midst, all of them undoubtedly better company than a battle-weary scientist, genius IQ or no. Despite what Beckett thought, McKay _knew _he was not a good friend. He tended to talk and not listen, he was egoistical (with a reason but still), sarcastic, impatient, selfish, hypochondriac, socially inept… And yet, for some inexplicable reason Carson had stuck it out and cheerfully ignored his spikes and walls while insinuating himself into Rodney’s life. Why he bothered was something of a mystery. God knew McKay sure as hell didn’t deserve a friend like that but if the unfair nature of the universe worked for his benefit for a change, who was he to argue?

After the credits had rolled they had decided to settle on the floor as a precaution. The booze was starting to hit home and Rodney was feeling relaxed again. He was lying on his back with Carson sitting nearby clearly engrossed in his story of a bottle of Russian vodka, a drinking competition and one argumentative Dr. Leonov from Research Institute of Physics at Saint Petersburg State University.

“So then Illya said ‘No vay an Amerrican lapdok kan drrink me underr te taple’” Rodney assumed a truly horrendous Russian accent. “And I said ‘I am not anyone’s lapdog!’ for like the tenth time that evening but of course that wasn’t the end of it so to stop us arguing Elena, his research assistant who was really quite something by the way, blond hair down to her waist and a figure like… wow!” He demonstrated Elena’s charms with a few strategically-placed hand movements.

“Anyway, she put this unlabelled bottle on the table and we started knocking back drinks. The vodka was fucking awful but as drinking games go it was the most fun I’ve ever had! After each glassful we had to explain a physics theorem chosen by the lovely Elena using less than twenty words!” He smiled happily, lost in the memory for a while. “Needless to say I was the last man standing and got take home the girl... Or maybe she took _me _home. I can’t quite remember now…”

Rodney trailed off and turned to look at Beckett who seemed not to be listening anymore but was staring into mid-space with a slight frown on his face. That wasn’t right, he was supposed to be enjoying himself, not worrying about whatever it was that had bought such a sad look into his eyes. McKay raised his voice a bit: “Man, I’m feeling no pain. Radek knows his way around the stills, old socks or no.”

That seemed to do the trick. Carson startled slightly and switched his focus back to Rodney. “Aye. Although, I suspect the pain is not gone but simply postponed until tomorrow, make that today, morning.”

True, but not something he wanted to think about right now. '_Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow; it empties today of its strength_’ McKay silently quoted to himself.

What little strength he ever had was long gone anyway. He ran both hands over his face and through his hair. For a moment he was back in the jumper bay reeking with sweat and desperation, elbow deep in a nuke while the world fell apart around him.

Damn it. He didn’t need these fucking flashbacks right now. With a conscious effort to shake the mood he turned towards his friend. “It’s not morning yet, Carson. I believe it an unwise distribution of cognitive resources to worry about it now.”

“‘Cognitive resources?’” As hoped that bought Beckett’s smile back. “I don’t have enough of those to worry about getting up from the floor.”

“And why should you? ‘M comfortable right here…”

And just like that he really, really was. Alcohol didn’t just give him rapid mood changes, it always made him feel more confident, more sure of himself. More sure of his welcome, more sure that he was interesting and funny and attractive. And, well, more comfortable in his body. In fact – Rodney stretched slowly and with a hum of pleasure – being drunk made him feel down right _sensual_.

Oh yeah… the pull of muscle in his back and arms; an object at rest acted upon by an external force, a sweet ache and release. With a contended sigh he relaxed back down and rolled his head lazily towards the man sitting close by.

“What do you think…” The sentence died on his lips. Carson had fallen quiet again and there was an expression on his face Rodney couldn’t readily identify. For some reason his entire body had grown completely motionless but it was the still of tension not of rest. And his eyes… they were dilated to almost black and looking at… McKay followed the other man’s gaze.

Carson was looking at him.

“Carson?” What the hell was going on?

The doctor’s gaze whipped back up, colour draining from his face. He could see the pulse point in the hollow of his throat beating like a trapped bird.

With a jolt Rodney recognised the expression. Everything stopped. He couldn’t draw breath but inside him something cracked and shattered in a shower of hot needles. The look in Carson’s face. It was desire.

Before he had time to consider it, he was moving. Questions scattered like autumn leaves in his mind. Am I reading this right? How? When? Are you sure? What do you want? Yet, the only one he was able to voice was…

“Carson?”

Rodney knelt in front of him, their legs almost touching. Beckett didn’t utter a word but his eyes said plenty. A fragile hope bloomed in his chest while much lower a burning coil of need twisted tighter.

Carson was still looking but he obviously wasn’t _seeing_.

“Carson.” Didn’t he understand? Rodney was right there with him. Had been for fucking ever.

“You…” His voice broke. He had to…

But he _had _misread. Because as soon as his hand made contact Carson scuttled back, almost falling down on his haste to get up and away.

A cold empty pit opened up inside him. Beckett was making meaningless excuses, too nervous to even turn his back on him.

He’d misunderstood. He’d gotten drunk and let his fantasies override reason. And then, then he’d gone and acted on those fantasies.

Carson was standing on the doorway waiting for him to say something. To explain. To apologise. But all he could do was watch helplessly as he finally gave up and left. His best friend. The man he loved. Gone.

 

***

 

And that was when he had downed the rest of the bottle on one go and then proceeded to throw it to the wall where it had quite spectacularly smashed into tiny pieces.

McKay pulled himself up. The headache was nothing compared to the suffocating wave of panic threatening to overwhelm him. What was he going to do? There had to be some way to fix this. He couldn’t lose Carson, the mere thought of it made his fists clench painfully. He would talk to Carson and somehow he…

“Dr. McKay? Rodney?” The radio crackled to life on the desk. He limped to the main room and grabbed the mouthpiece.

“Yes Elizabeth, I’m here.”

“You do remember the meeting? All the department heads are here and waiting.”

“Shit. Look, I’m sorry, I overslept and am feeling… Give me 15 minutes to get dressed and I’ll be right there. Just start without me.”

“Ok. Dr. Weir out.” Elizabeth sounded worried but thankfully didn’t pursue the matter over the radio. However, there would definitely be a private talk later today, he was sure of it.

With a sigh Rodney put the radio down. He would think of something. He always did. Determinedly he gagged the little voice insisting that maybe this time he couldn’t, that this was it, he’d messed up for the last time…

No! Failure was not an option.

He rubbed his eyes resignedly. First the meeting. And before that, he really needed a shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rodney is quoting Corrie ten Boom 1892-1983, a Dutch lady who hid and saved several Jews and members of Holland's underground resistance during WWII


	3. Chapter 3

“Ah, Rodney. Very good of you to join us. You bring the notes of our project, yes? The ones we carefully write many hours in simple words so ordinary people can understand. You remember?” Zelenka’s voice cut through the general murmur. 

Weir’s eyebrows rose as she silently mouthed ‘ordinary people’. An indignant “Hey!” could be heard from few of the other scientists.

Carson kept his head down and his eyes on the table. His fingers tightened imperceptibly and if you were looking closely enough, and for the lack of anything safer he was, you could see the papers in his hands tremble. 

He could hear a chair scraping as Rodney sat down and muttered something rude and anatomically challenging about Zelenka and what he could do with their research notes.

The following argument made his head hurt even worse than it had that morning.  

Carson had barely slept. After leaving McKay’s quarters he had gone back to the infirmary, not ready to face the emptiness of his quarters or himself.

He’d stayed away from actual patients and shut himself in his office. He wasn’t stupid or arrogant enough to try and take care of anyone else when it was blatantly clear he couldn’t even take care of himself.  

He had spent rest of the night staring unseeing at a copy of European Journal of Emergency Medicine, turning a page every now and then in order to avoid drawing the attention of the night staff.

He’d wanted to sleep, desperately, but his mind wouldn’t shut down. A thousand random thoughts were demanding to be noticed and processed but only one had any significance. He was going to lose him. Things would change, he would change. He’d say it wouldn’t matter but it would. It’d change everything. He was going to lose him.  

He already had.

He must have finally passed out from sheer exhaustion since the next thing he knew was nurse Tourquet gently shaking him awake, her concerned eyes telling him it was time to stop hiding. And, judging by the slight wrinkling of her nose, possibly to clean up. 

Carson had returned to his rooms, showered and changed on autopilot. His notes were scattered all over the floor but he could see no point in gathering them up.

“Dr. Beckett?” Elizabeth’s voice cut through the haze.  

Cautiously he looked up. The argument between the physicists had quietened to a sullen silence and Carson could feel everyone’s eyes on him. One pair in particular.

Not risking a glance in Rodney’s direction he focused on answering Dr. Weir. 

“Yes?”

“You had a research proposal you wanted to discuss?” 

“Aye, I did. I mean I do, a proposal, yes…”

He rustled the empty notebook uselessly for a few seconds. Elizabeth waited patiently for him to continue. 

“Erm… It seems I need a bit longer to refine the plan before going any further.”

Dr. Weir crossed her fingers in front of her and pursed her lips thoughtfully, clearly suspicious. It wasn’t like him to bring half-baked ideas into meetings. 

Carson fought the urge to squirm and kept his gaze steady and blank. Hopefully she would by it; he really didn’t want to be drawn into long comparison of Wraith cellular regeneration and Ancient healing abilities, not now. He had to get out of this meeting soon, before the carefully constructed façade of detachment would simply break like so much  
glass.

“Alright then, Dr. Beckett.” Weir gave up and returned her attention to men sitting near the door.  

“Dr. Zelenka? Dr. McKay? You too were supposed to present some new project today.”

“Yes, yes we were. Until _someone _left all notes behind. Very unfortunate, hmm?” Zelenka’s voice dripped with sarcasm. 

“What am I? Your secretary? Your paperboy?”

“Lately you have no concentration to be janitor! We agree, I put together team, _you _finish notes and bring to meeting to get approved. The team is ready, eagerly waiting to twirl thumbs for another week now! _You _have better things to do. _You _cannot bother to finish diagrams. Why should people care about decreasing generator usage by introducing wave-power? Now we have more time for long-term projects but who cares about saving energy for shields and weapons system? You certainly don’t…” 

“I _care_!” Rodney's exclamation cut through Radek’s tirade.

“Gentlemen! Let’s settle down, shall we.”  

Carson dared a quick look. Rodney had stood up, facing the rest of the room; all rigid defiance.

“I know Rodney, I know. I’m sorry, it’s just…” Zelenka’s voice sounded worn. 

“Look, you’re right; I should have brought the notes. I forgot.” The silence was deafening. To hear the formidable Dr. McKay apologise, no matter how indirectly, was rare enough an occurrence to unnerve even the most seasoned expedition members.

“I’m not feeling quite myself this morning…” Rodney’s gaze briefly flicked over to him but Carson tore his eyes away before something as dangerous as direct eye contact could happen.  

His fault. The tense line of his back, the hands nervously picking at the hem of the shirt. He was going to lose him. Today would be the day he was going to lose him.

The hush lingered for a few seconds until Elizabeth pushed her chair back and announced the meeting adjourned.  

Carson was already half-way to the door. He needed to be somewhere else fast.

“Carson, wait!” 

He continued walking, desperately pretending to be deaf and blind.

“Carson! Hold on, I need to talk to you” 

They were out of the briefing room by now and gathering curious glances as they marched down the corridor, Beckett at the front, McKay a few steps behind.

“Later. I have to get back to work.” Was there ever a more feeble excuse? 

Rodney wasn’t discouraged that easily. He could hear the footsteps following him around the corner to a more deserted hallway.

“Can’t it wait? I just need to…” 

“Dr. McKay. I’m very sorry but I really don’t have the time right now.” Carson bit out the words over his shoulders, sounding unnecessarily harsh even to himself. The thinly veiled hurt on Rodney’s face made him regret it almost instantly. They hadn’t addressed each other with formal titles after the first five minutes of being introduced. To use one now was cruel.

Then again, what did it matter? Their friendship was already a thing of the past, thanks to his alcohol-assisted slip-up the previous night. “Look, Rodney…” 

“If you won’t hear me out, I guess I’ll just have to go and unburden on someone else. Perhaps Heightmayer or Liz…”

Carson stopped and turned around. There obviously was no way to delay the inevitable.

Rodney was still trotting after him with a determined expression on his face. And something that looked like a… grimace of pain. Carson narrowed his eyes.

“You’re limping.”

 

***

 

Rodney skidded to halt. “Good, now can we talk? I need to…”

“Not here, please?” He hadn’t known it was there until the fear eased somewhat. There was hope yet; Carson was finally looking at him, even if it was with a mixture of resignation and apprehension. 

As fast as it had appeared any sign of personal emotion was gone, replaced by a stern professional concern. “Why are you limping? What’s wrong with your foot?”

Rodney fidgeted on the spot. Explaining how a piece of glass got into his foot was going to lead to far too many details about his state of mind the previous night. All he really wanted was to plead guilty of drunken stupidity and hopefully leave it at that. On the other hand the doctor was now duty-bound to spend at least a few minutes with him… Rodney decided to play for sympathy. He’d take pity if pity was all he was going to get. 

“I… I hurt it this morning. I think it’s bleeding.” He added a hang-dog expression for good effect.

“It needs to be checked out.” Carson gripped his elbow and started dragging him towards the sickbay; worry for patient obviously overriding the earlier reluctance to come within touching distance. 

Rodney swallowed. It was probably very wrong in many uncountable ways, but Carson's firm hand on his arm felt incredibly good; solid and real.

“Please, I… I don’t want to go to the infirmary.” 

Without a word Beckett shifted direction, navigating through the corridors, clearly heading towards his own quarters.

Rodney followed silently. He figured his best bet was to keep quiet until they got behind closed doors. He couldn’t risk Carson changing his mind.  

Rodney stole a sideways glance at the other man’s set jaw and unblinking gaze. His heart sank, Carson was obviously so mad he couldn’t even bare to look at him more than was absolutely necessary.

Before long they arrived at their destination and Carson pushed him into his quarters and unceremoniously sat him down on the edge of the bed. 

Rodney watched him open drawers, collecting antiseptic and gauze with measured, tightly controlled movements. The floor was covered with open books, hand-written notes and what looked like print-outs of gene maps and chemical charts. Such disarray was extremely uncharacteristic of someone usually so meticulous and Rodney furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully.

“What happened to your foot?” Beckett repeated, walking up to the bed. 

The man was like a dog with a bone when it came to getting information out of reluctant patients.

Rodney sighed and looked down. Carson was kneeling in front of him, unconsciously mirroring his own pose from last night. How to explain… 

He gasped from a sudden pain. Carson was holding the injured foot and removing his shoe. Rodney hadn’t bothered with socks this morning, which was probably just as well since everything seemed to be stained red.

“Oh, Rodney…” Carson’s voice softened with sympathy as he proceeded to clean and bandage the cut but he still wasn’t meeting Rodney’s eyes. 

“I broke the bottle.” He guessed this was as good a way of leading to the topic as any. “On purpose. And then I stepped on one of the pieces this morning. Not on purpose.”

Rodney felt much better. He suspected it had more to do with the hand still resting on his foot than the white neat bandage tied snug around it.  

He was getting a bit light-headed. From the blood loss and lack of breakfast, naturally.

Rodney glanced down. Their current position wasn’t helping. The sight of Carson on his knees, the darkly curled head bowed between his spread legs made Rodney’s breath catch. His fingers twitched at their own volition, the urge to touch was almost too much to bear. 

No. That’s what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. Rodney gathered his courage and ploughed on with the apology.

“After you left… I got so angry I threw the bottle against the wall.” 

The Scot flinched as if struck and dropped Rodney’s foot like it was one of the Ancient devices he tended to avoid at all cost.

The painful throbbing returned. He swallowed thickly but managed to continue: “I can’t believe…” 

“Look.” With a visible effort Carson lifted his head and aimed his gaze nowhere near Rodney. “I was never going to say or do anything. Never.”

“…I was so stupid as to actually think that you would…” 

“But ev’rything was just so... Unfair, all of it. A few weeks ago we nearly died! I almost lost you!”

The shouted exclamation seemed to Rodney to be highly out of context and the rest of his sentence petered out like so much thin air. “…want me.”  

Carson didn’t seem to notice.

“It was late, I was so bloody tired of fighting it. I’m always fighting it, you know, ev’ry single minute ’m with you.” 

He didn’t know. He had no fucking _clue _what Carson was talking about.

“And the air… so warm. I could smell the ocean. It reminded me of home.”  

Rodney was confused. Carson’s eyes were still resolutely staring at the wall.

After endless seconds the doctor turned towards him. Their eyes locked. 

“You remind me of home.”

What? He what? This wasn’t going at all like he had thought it would. Carson appeared to be _apologising _and there was something in the resigned line of his back that told Rodney he didn’t expect to be forgiven. 

“Stop. Just… stop for a minute, will you.” Carson fell silent, watching him with a puzzled expression.

Rodney empathised as ran a nervous hand through his hair. What the hell was going on here?  

Hesitantly he tried to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand.

“There was a lot of alcohol involved.” 

Beckett nodded in agreement.

“I was very, very drunk.” 

The doctor continued to nod.

“And when you looked at me like… I thought…” God this was hard. He’d never been adept at putting his feelings into words. Numbers he could handle, they were definite and simple, but words… Words were awkward. 

“Your eyes, they… I saw, what I wanted to see. And I acted on it.”

Carson had stopped nodding. That couldn’t be good. 

“I’m sorry I freaked you out. I was well and truly plastered but that’s no excuse for trying to… well, you know. I’m so sorry; I promise it won’t happen again. I hope we can still be friends, I mean I understand you’re probably angry and disappointed and don’t ever want to see me again but maybe in time you get over it and we can, you know, hang… or something.”

Rodney knew he had a _slight _tendency to ramble when anxious so with a determined effort he shut up and waited for a response. 

And waited.

He opened his mouth only to discover there was nothing more to say. So he bit his lip instead and waited some more. 

He literally sagged with relief when the other man at last spoke up.

“Rodney.” Caron’s voice was strained.

“Yes?” 

“What did you think you saw? In my eyes. What did you think was going on?”

He’d really wanted to avoid _that _particular topic.  

“I thought I saw… desire, love even. The ‘more than just good friends’ kind. I thought you wanted me. How stupid is that? And I’m supposed to be the resident genius here.”

Rodney gave a little self-deprecating laugh that sank like a stone under the heavy stillness surrounding the two men. What was Carson after? He’d apologised, hadn’t he? Why drag out the sordid details, unless he was looking to humiliate him further. But no, that simply wasn’t the man’s style. 

“And when you said you ‘acted on it’ what did you mean? What were you going to do, Rodney?”

There was something huge and intense in Carson’s eyes and he couldn’t have looked away for God or country, not for dozen ZPMs or a key to the unification theory. 

“You…” Rodney cleared his throat, which threatened to seize around the words.

“You know what I did. I touched you. You ran.” He hadn’t meant for it come out like an accusation but there it was.  

“You ran, Carson!” He pushed up from the bed and walked off a couple of paces before turning back around. Now that the words were out Rodney discovered he wasn’t feeling quite as meek and contrite as he had thought.

“So yeah, when I smashed the bottle against the wall I was angry at myself for misunderstanding the situation so badly, for risking our friendship on nothing but empty wishes and too much liquor. But I was also mad at _you _for not staying and letting me explain. For running away from me. Everybody does that…” 

Beckett had also gotten to his feet and was warily watching him from a safe distance.

“But not you. I’ve messed up plenty and you have always just…” Rodney waved his hands about like that explained everything. “…accepted it. You always stayed. Until now.” 

He knew he was practically raving. He forced his hands to stillness and his voice down.

“Why did you leave? Why, Carson? I’m sorry, I won’t…” To his mortification he realised he was close to tears. He fucking hated when his own mind sneaked up on him like this, bringing up issues that he didn’t want to deal with. Preferably never, but definitely not right now. What was the point of having a subconscious if things in there didn’t stay _sub_merged.  

Beckett took one indecisive step closer, regret and some other, deeper emotion shifting across his features. “I got scared. I ran because I got scared.”

“Oh God, Carson. I’m so sorry. I misread, I…” He was shaking now and couldn’t seem to stop. 

And then Carson was there. Holding him up, hands tight around his biceps. “Shhh. Rodney, listen to me!” The strength of his grip and the command in his voice were absolute, the tone the same he used in medical crises. Rodney’s brain snapped back into focus.

“You didn’t misread, Rodney. You didn’t misread.” 

And out again.

“Huh?” 

“I was scared of myself. Not you; only what you could do to me.”

Hadn’t misread? _Hadn’t_ misread? 

“What you’re doing to me even now. God, Rodney I…” He swallowed and Rodney watched, mesmerised, as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“Last night, when you were stretching on the floor, your shirt rode up and I could see…” 

He hadn’t misread!!

“I _was _looking at you like someone who is more than just a friend to me. I wanted to touch you so badly.” 

Carson took a deep breath and very clearly and very carefully said: “I want you. Have almost since I laid eyes on you for the first time. And now I’m thinking _I _was the stupid one for panicking and running. I think maybe you feel the same, that maybe you wouldn’t be so opposed to the idea of…”

Rodney’s mind was busy shifting gears. Carson _wanted _him. And now he was wondering if maybe… Obviously some sort of reply was required. 

“Yeah, I… Yeah.” Rodney licked his lips uncertainly. Carson’s eyes dropped to his mouth and followed the trajectory of Rodney’s tongue with rapt attention.

“Yes? Ye’re sayin’ yes?” Beckett seemed to be beyond articulation and the question came out coated honey-thick with his native brogue.  

Rodney nodded weakly. The world shrank until the only thing he could see was the man standing in front of him, the only sound he could hear the blood coursing through his body, hot and strong.

Oh god, someone had to do something like _right now_ as long as it wasn’t him. Despite Carson’s earlier words Rodney couldn’t force himself to make the first move. He was too afraid of getting it wrong again. It was like being in the dream and knowing that if you tried too hard you’d wake up. 

The expression on the Scot’s face was the same one he had been wearing the previous night; his mouth slightly open, eyes dark blue of a midnight storm.

Rodney’s breaths came too quick and shallow. Was it possible to die from suppressed desire? A hysterical laughter bubbled somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind. If something didn’t happen soon he was simply going to faint… pass out from lack of oxygen. 

“Rodney.” Voice low and scratchy Carson leaned forwards, sliding his hands from Rodney’s arms to his sides. Every nerve-ending in his body zinged with energy, like hundreds of microscopic wormholes opening all over, ready to register the tiniest press and slide.

A strangled sound that was not quite a word, not quite a sigh, escaped his lips as the physician’s hands continued their journey downwards. 

“I’m going to… Can I…” Apparently he wasn’t the only one having trouble forming sentences.

 “What?” Rodney managed to choke out. Carson’s fingers were curling around his waist, restlessly worrying the material of his shirt. 

“…kiss you.”

Carson grasped his hips, yanking him flush against his body.  

Rodney’s hands buried themselves into soft black hair. He was moaning long before their lips touched.

Oh God, oh Jesus God. Carson’s mouth was hot and slick and when his tongue swiped across his lips Rodney could do nothing but part them in powerless invitation. 

Beckett kissed like a drowning man, tying his tongue around Rodney’s as if it was the last best hope of salvation.

Rodney let his hands explore, pulling up the hem Carson’s shirt, blindly seeking skin. He’d wanted this for so long, imagined a hundred scenarios much like this during countless lonely nights. It was almost impossible to believe this was happening. That this _was _a dream or some alcohol-induced hallucination or possibly a… 

Then Carson sucked on his tongue and all doubts burned to cinder in the slow fire that had been smouldering in the pit of his stomach for a long, long time and was now finally given freedom to spread throughout his body.

Rodney spread his fingers wide across the smooth expanse of the other man’s back, massaging the surprisingly firm muscle there, finally circling to the front, skimming ribs and brushing his thumbs against taut nipples. Carson bit down hard on his lip, nearly drawing blood and arched back into his touch. Instinctively Rodney’s arms wrapped themselves around him for support and his mouth latched on to Carson’s exposed throat, taking advantage of the momentary change in dynamic.  

He lapped at the salty bristle just below Carson’s chin, catching the groan before it made its way up and out.

The doctor wasn’t inclined to let him take the lead for long. A sudden twist dislodged his grip and Carson was on him in a second, pressing his advantage to all its worth. With a growl that went straight to Rodney’s cock he caught his wrists in one hand and pushed him back towards and then down on the bed with the other.  

Rodney couldn’t think, he could barely see. They were pressed together from knee to chest. Wherever he turned there was Carson, over him, above him, around him. So deep inside his heart he didn’t think there was a way to ever get him out.

Then Carson’s mouth returned, the teeth scraping his neck raw and there was nothing but the pain pleasure thrill of his arms being stretched and held immobile above his head. 

A savage thrust brought their groins together. The Scot’s erection was pressed tight against his own, making Rodney’s spinal cord shoot sparks and his vision dim around the edges.

Above him Carson was moaning, eyes shut and head thrown back. In frustration Rodney rolled his hips in a smooth motion that caused the whole length of their cocks to rub together.  

“Off.” He growled through gritted teeth, hoping the other man would take the not so subtle hint.

“You’ve got the right idea.” Carson grinned wildly and sat back long enough to pull the shirt over his head in one shift motion. Then he hauled McKay up and proceeded to rid him from his shirt as well.  

For a second or two there was a delicious friction of bare chest against bare chest as Rodney was shoved onto the mattress again.

He was so hard it hurt. Broad hands were drawing lazy patterns around his nipples, closely followed by warm wetness and almost-painful scratch of stubble on sensitive skin. 

A tongue was dipping into his bellybutton making his hips buck up involuntarily. He really, really needed not to miss seeing this… Rodney struggled up onto his elbows.

Aaah fuck… The sight greeting him was straight from his more pornographic fantasies. Carson was tugging at his belt with no finesse but enough force to lift his ass off the bed.  

“You too.” Rodney panted like he’d been sprinting through a hiveship with a squadron of Wraiths on his heels.

The belt was discarded and Carson was flicking open the buttons one-handed like it was something he did a lot. 

“All in good time. First I need to see something.”

“See… unh, see what?” The cold air hit his swollen flesh as Rodney’s trousers were pulled down and off. 

“I need to see you come.” Carson’s hands settled on his naked thighs and Rodney almost did, the pleasure a whitehot knife cutting clean through any self-control he had left. The muscles in his legs tensed against Carson’s restraining grasp and oh God he wanted it all _right now_.

Then warm solid fingers wrapped themselves around his dick and a tongue was licking off the precome in rough wide sweeps.  

His pulse was pounding like a sledgehammer and Rodney just fucking knew the other man could feel every single beat in his mouth. The thought only made his heart thump harder.

Carson’s other hand snaked under him, the palm rolling his balls gently while one clever digit probed even lower. 

“Fuck!” Rodney couldn’t fathom why he had ever thought Beckett was pretty vanilla. The man was a _doctor _for god’s sake. Doctors knew things and those fingers certainly seemed to know exactly what they were doing; sliding and pressing, enough to tease but not really enough at all, slippery with saliva Rodney could feel trickling down the side of his cock.

Carson’s mouth picked up speed, the back of his throat closing around him on the way down and his tongue doing a nasty little circling motion around the tip on the way up.  

Oh, oh, oh yes. Rodney fisted the sheets, sweat pooling on his chest and the twin hollows of his hips. He rocked back and forth, helplessly caught between Carson’s mouth and fingers, _two _of them now, breaching him slowly and he could feel himself pushing back, down, needy like a bitch on heat.

“Carson, pleaseplease, Carson, don’t stop, please…” He was begging and whimpering and so close already and Jesus God Carson’s tongue was pressing the back of his cock just _ right _and inside his ass Carson’s fingers were doing a dirtywronggood scissoring motion that brushed his prostrate with every curl just…  

“…like that, like that, like it, love it, yeah oh god please…”

There were words pouring out but he couldn’t tell what they were, all twisted and broken except for one that forced its’ way out straight from his heart, from his gut, from the very centre of him, dragging his orgasm with it. 

With Carson’s name on his lips Rodney spilled into his mouth, the world dissolving in long spurts of wet heat that seemed to go on forever.

 

*** 

 

  
With an unhurried smack Carson released Rodney’s dick from his mouth, easing his fingers out at the same time. Making him come had been fucking amazing. He sat back to get a good look, swiping a lazy hand across his own straining hard-on.

Rodney was lying on his back looking distinctly debauched. His skin glistened with sweat and a purple love-bite was developing on the curve of one shoulder. Slowly he swivelled his head around, eyes opening to slits. 

“Oh man, Carson. That was like the best blowjob ever! Where’d you learn to suck cock like that? Did they give special lessons in the medical school or what?” He chuckled low, his whole body radiating smug satisfaction of someone who’d had his and enjoyed it thoroughly.

Carson didn’t feel like laughing. Holding Rodney’s gaze he stood up and with calculated slowness skimmed his trousers off. His cock was slick with precome, leaving a damp trail as it bumped against his stomach. 

Rodney’s eyes widened a fraction and Carson could actually _see _his dick stir.

“We aren’t done yet.” 

“Oh?” The man was trying for nonchalance but the way his legs spread on their own accord as he scooted back on the bed spoke louder than words.

Carson had never been possessive of his lovers in the past but the sight of Rodney so blatantly _offering _himself, still shaky from his orgasm but willing and wanting again, flipped some switch inside him. Like it had always been there, waiting for the right person, this desperate need to lay claim, to take over.  

The desire to mark Rodney so completely as his that there would never be any doubt became urgent, clawing in his chest as he crawled back on the bed.

“Look at you. Jesus Christ Carson, just fucking look at you.” Rodney’s mouth was slack with lust and when Carson drew him in for a kiss he was making small needy noises at the back of his throat. 

He growled in response and shoved his tongue in deeper. No one had ever made him lose control like this. Part of him was afraid of the intensity, the disturbing need to _own_. But that part was small and getting smaller as Rodney wrapped legs around his waist.

Carson tore his mouth away and looked down. The physicist was panting hard and apparently unable to stay still. His hands had wandered down to Carson’s ass and were massaging the cheeks rhythmically bringing their groins together. His cock was sliding against Rodney’s, which was making an impressive recovery and hardening with each thrust.  

“Carson, please, I want to… please…”

Sweet Christ above, as long as Rodney kept doing _that _Carson was ready to give him whatever he wanted. He tried to focus on what the other man was saying. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

Carson went absolutely still. He had to. Otherwise he would have come there and then and if Rodney was serious…  

“Um… Carson?”

“I’m ok. Just give me a minute here.” 

“Oh!” McKay’s forehead, which had creased with worry, smoothed, hands drawing soothing circles down his shoulder blades.  
   
“Rodney.” A blowjob was one thing. This was something quite different.

“Yeah?” 

“You got to understand, if I’m going to fuck you it’s not going to be a one-time-only deal.” Did he realise the enormity of the request? He had to make Rodney see how important, how life-altering this was, this moment right here.

“I can still walk away and be whole.” A wounded look flashed across McKay’s eyes and he dropped his gaze for a second before Carson forced it back up. 

“No luv, it’s not like that. I don’t _want _to walk away, but if I had to, _if I had to_, I could. Tomorrow if you decide that this was all a big mistake, it will hurt like sonofabitch but I will get over it and move on. Hell, who knows, maybe we’ll even be friends again some day.”

Rodney winced at the tone. Carson was sorry to be so blunt but he had to make his meaning clear. There was no room for any more misunderstandings in his heart. 

“But if we go further, if we’re going to fuck, to make love, that’s it for me. I will want to do it again. I will need to have you again.” He was flaying his heart here, raw and bleeding, but this was nothing compared to the prospect of pain facing him tomorrow if he didn’t do this now.

 “Not just for sex either. For all the times in between. For talking and laughing and being quiet. For fighting and for making up. For keeps Rodney, for keeps. Do you understand?” 

A small nod from Rodney. 

“So please, don’t ask this of me if ye’re not sure.” It almost broke his resolve but he managed to hold the dazed blue-grey eyes in his.  

“You love me.” The voice came out a bit breathy and filled with wonder.

“Aye.” It hadn’t really been a question but he answered it anyway. 

“Then I’m sure.”

Carson believed him utterly. He sank back into Rodney’s mouth; loosing himself in the joy and relief and slipslide of tongue against tongue while his hand blindly opened the top drawer of the nightstand and groped for the lube. 

Carson might like to take his time considering every angle before making a decision but once he was committed he tended to follow through with a single-minded determination.

Finally locating the tube he squeezed a generous amount into his hand. But as he reached down between their bodies Rodney seized his wrist. 

“Let me, please. I want to touch you.” There was no denying a request like that. Carson offered the lube to Rodney who scooped some up and hesitated for a moment before spreading it on him with a few steady stokes.

Ah Jesus… The lube was cold but underneath he could feel a warm solid palm massaging his cock. Carson couldn’t help it; he humped into Rodney’s hand, once, twice, three times, biting his lip in effort not to come.  

McKay stopped at the last second, a knowing smile on his lips. “Oh no you don’t. I got other plans for this.” He tightened his grip briefly, making Carson groan against the scientist’s shoulder.

Before Rodney had a chance to take his little game any further, Carson grabbed one of his legs behind the knee and lifted. There was no resistance; Rodney simply let himself be moulded and arranged, moaning continuously with open lust. God, give the man one blowjob and he turned into a first grade slut in bed.  

Carson felt his cock rubbing across the cleft of Rodney’s ass and Jesus the need to be inside him _now _overrode everything else so he pressed against the opening, wanting to take it slow and easy but knowing it was too late, too fucking late for that so he nudged and shoved and thrust until he was in.

Tight. The world dipped and swayed, growing black around the edges, his muscles burning in effort to keep still. Not virgin-tight but the way Rodney’s breath kept hitching and his ass squeezed and relaxed, squeezed and relaxed around Carson’s dick told him it had been a while. And shit if that thought didn’t _please _him, because he wanted it that way, wanted Rodney to feel this like it was the first time, wanted to fuck him hard enough to drive out memories of others until there was only him, from now on only him. It was wrong _he’s mine_ but he didn’t care because then Rodney pushed back with complete abandon, his head thrown so far back Carson could see the tendons in his neck standing up begging to be bitten and eaten and he had to move so he did, surging forward until thankyougod his cock was all the way in and his mouth was full of salty bittersweet taste of Rodney. 

He pulled back, pushed in, pulled out, his nails digging into Rodney’s thigh, his teeth clamping down on the bared throat. He was going to leave bruises and he was _glad_. McKay wound arms around his back urging him on “C’mon, harder, c’mon” with a slurred voice and glazed eyes, looking drunker than he had the previous night.

Carson changed the angle slightly until Rodney’s sharp intake of breath told him he’d found the prostrate. The man kept thrashing about, gasping his name with every push. Carson liked the sound of that. Liked it a lot.  

He slowed right down, pinning Rodney’s hands to the mattress, nailing him with small shallow thrusts that were driving them both crazy.

“Say it again.” 

“Sayhhh… say what?”

“My name. I want to hear you say it again.” He slowed down even more until he was barely moving at all.  

“Ca… Carson! Please, Carson, please.”

Oh God, he’d never thought he would get to see Rodney like this. Back arching off the bed, desperate for contact, desperate for _him_.  

“Oh Jesus, Rodney. Ye’re mine, won’t let anybody else touch you.” Carson pushed in with deep strokes that buried his cock to the hilt.

“Yours, yours, yeah c’mon, show me Carson, show me…”  

He did. Seizing the back of Rodney’s head in one hand and his cock in another Carson let himself be pulled under. Their tongues twined together until there was nothing but the taste and smell and feel of the man shaking apart under him.

All the barriers came crumbling down, the last vestige of fear melting in the heat of their bodies until there was nothing to hold back anymore, nothing to keep sealed away because it was all Rodney’s now, all his.  

There was a tingling sensation at the base of his spine, Rodney’s cock, heavy and thick, gliding in the circle of his thumb and forefinger. And as he licked and sobbed and fucked his way in, so close he didn’t know where he ended and Rodney began, Carson realised he’d gotten it all wrong. _He _wasn’t the one laying claim here. It was Rodney who was taking possession of him, his mouth and hands leaving a glowing trail of love lust hope that marked Carson as his more clearly and completely than any ring ever could.

Underneath him Rodney cried out and then he was coming all over them both, nails digging painfully into the skin at his shoulders, his ass clenching twice in rapid succession before clamping down hard on Carson’s cock. Someone was chanting “loveyou, loveyou, loveyou” and distantly Carson recognised the voice as his own. For a space of few heartbeats his entire body teetered on the edge of oblivion and then he was freefalling, the future opening up before him bright and certain. The orgasm finally ripped through him like a tidal wave, the pleasure lapping over him again and again as he emptied himself inside Rodney. 

Gradually the world returned to focus. Carson shivered lightly, partly from the aftershock, partly from the cool air drying his skin. Rodney showed no inclination to move anywhere, just hummed deeply so that Carson could actually feel the sound vibrate through their joined bodies.

After a minute the other man finally stirred enough to poke him on the side, which Carson took as a sign to get off. His muscles felt like molten lead, heavy and liquid as he rolled onto his back.  

Rodney groaned loudly as he lowered and straightened his legs and made a half-hearted attempt at snuggling closer. Carson winced in sympathy but couldn’t really summon any genuine regret so he just opened his arms and pulled the other man onto his chest.

They laid in silence for several moments. He could feel his eyelids grow heavy and judging by Rodney’s steady breathing he too was edging towards sleep. Carson stroked his fingers lazily up and down his lover’s spine and waited for his heart beat to calm down before speaking. 

“I used to think life was really unfair.”

“Oh?” The comment sounded muffled coming out from somewhere under his armpit. 

“I was so good at keeping myself in check around you. No inappropriate little touches, no lingering glances, and still the universe kept throwing temptation my way. It just wasn’t fair.”

“And now?” Rodney’s face was starting to take on the familiar look of smugness. 

“And now… I haven’t changed my mind. I still think universe is unfair.”

“What!? Why? But I thought…” McKay’s expression closed of. “Wasn’t as good as you expected, was it?” 

Carson sighed and tugged him closer. Navigating the unique fusion of arrogance and insecurity of Rodney’s psyche was going to be tricky, no doubt about it.

“No luv, that’s not it at all. What I meant was that this is so much more and better than I ever thought I could have with you. And now I feel like I’ve won the lottery, like some random good luck has just been bestowed on me for no particular reason. Like I don’t…” 

Rodney turned in his arms and they finished the sentence together: “…deserve you.”

“Aye.” 

Rodney pulled him down for an unhurried kiss that seemed to go on forever. When Carson thought his heart was simply going to give in under so much emotion Rodney broke the contact. They stayed like that for a long time, breaths mingling, foreheads resting against each other.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Rodney was taking him seriously.  

“What?”

“That if we only got what we deserved and no more, I wouldn’t even be on Atlantis. I’d be a third-rate lab technician somewhere in Saskatchewan, spending my days entering other people’s meaningless data into an old computer and contemplating suicide.” 

That elicited a surprised laugh out of him but Rodney waved off the joke.

“My point is that I don’t think I deserve you either. But here you are. I don’t know why or how and I don’t really care. You’re here, with me. And I’m just happy about it.” 

Carson swallowed past the lump in his throat. Rodney’s eyes were huge and dark and resolutely clinging to his although the connection was plainly maintained by sheer will alone. The farther he got in his explanation the more he was starting to mumble and Carson had to concentrate to hear the last part.

“Because, you know, in case it isn’t like _obvious_… I love you.” 

What was there to add to that? The happiness he felt must have radiated out of every pore as inch by inch Rodney’s face spread into a dazzling smile that matched his own. For a minute they just looked at each other, grinning like a pair of idiots, which, Carson thought, they kind of were for taking this long to get here.

“So… screw the universe?” 

“Oh no.” Rodney’s expression took on a more mischievous slant, his eyes wide with faked innocence. God, he was beautiful.

“No?” 

“I’d much rather screw you.”

Carson’s heart grew light with joy and laughter and love so strong it had bound them together long before they knew miracles happened.  
   
He bent down to brush his lips against Rodney’s, tightening the embrace and bringing them impossibly closer.

“That could be arranged…”


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pink foam, revelations and friendship. No point.

_Green wire’s connected to the – dum dum – blue wire. Glowy crystal’s connected to the – dum dum – funny looking slot heeeere…_

He slid the crystal in and the access panel gave a satisfied little hum. Radek did too, although his attempt was much less musical.

_Dum du dumdumdummmmmmmm_

He fiddled with connectors and plug-ins and some strangely shaped Ancient protuberances that probably... no, *very likely* needed to be fiddled with at this particular point in the process.

_Aaand this weird knob’s_ [chortle] _connected to the – dum dum – the power sour…_

The humming sound turned into something more ominous and little wisps of smoke started appearing around the crystal.

“Rodney, hand me the point 78 modifier.” He stuck his arm out.

Nothing happened.

“Rodney, hurry up!” A furious wiggling of fingers.

Again nothing.

“I must have it! Now, before this thing catches fi…”

Several things happened all at once. The weird Ancient thing and the power source expressed their incompatibly by releasing a shower of sparks, a few of which landed on his fringe and started to smoulder. Distressed by the smell of burning circuits and burning hair Radek did a fast backwards shuffle that caused him to bang his head to a very sharp, very hard corner of the open hatch.

_Forehead’s connected to the – fuck fuck – panel door… _

By now the smoke was pillowing out of the wall in great clouds. The Ancient version of water sprinklers spurted to action and fluffy pink foam started to fill the room.

“Radek? Are you all right?” Rodney was trying to pat out flames by repeatedly slapping him on the face.

“Yes, I… Stop it! What do you think you’re doing? And why were you not doing what you were supposed to be doing earlier and hand me the frequency modifier before… before… before this!”

The wave of his hand managed to encompass the smoking panel, his singed hair and was that…? Oh yes, his *brand new* government-purchased laptop with 3.6GHz processor and 2GB RAM, slowly being covered by pink bubbles.

“I was thinking!” McKay’s answer lacked its customary bark.

“About what?”

“Er… the environmental controls.”

“You think about environmental controls while I burn to crisp?!” That was possibly the most ridiculous thing McKay had said in oh… last 24 hours.

“Oh come on Radek, it’s not that bad! Is it? Although…” To his annoyance Rodney grabbed his head and peered at it closely.

“Perhaps it is. We should not take any risks. I will call Car… Dr. Beckett.”

“No, no. I’m fine.” Radek pulled his head free.

“You banged it pretty badly. We should definitely call for Car… Dr. Beckett.”

“This…” another sweep of his arm “…will not be fixed with big needles. Do not call Carson.”

“Too late, lads.” Dr. Beckett was standing on the door brandishing a medkit and a smile that kept creeping to the fore. He was surrounded by a contingent of armed military personnel and Radek thought he saw Sheppard’s hair bobbing up and down behind someone’s M-16 rifle.

“Dr. Beckett.”

“Dr. McKay. Are you hurt.” Carson waded into the crimson tide of alien goo and started checking over the wrong scientist.

“Carson. I’m fine.”

“You sure Rodney?”

Radek couldn’t help but feel slightly put upon.

He coughed, very politely.

“Er… Radek hit his head. And maybe burned it a little.”

Beckett blinked twice. It seemed to take a few seconds longer than normal for him to gauge the meaning of Rodney’s words.

“Right then.” The Scot let go off Rodney abruptly and strode over.

Carson flashed a penlight into his eyes, poked around his skull and waved a finger in front of his face before announcing what Radek already knew.

“Ah, nothing but minor burns. You’ll get a good-sized bump on your skull for a few days but I wouldn’t  worry about it. If you start feeling dizzy or nauseous though, come see me straight away. Is that clear?”

If this little escapade resulted in a concussion, he would not be the only one to suffer. The good doctor might have more than one patient in his hands before the day was over. Radek muttered darkly under his breath.

“I said: is that clear laddie?” The question was asked in a tone of voice that made it plain that only one answer was possible.

“Certainly, Dr. Beckett.”

After the medical crisis was found non-existent, the rest of the unnecessary rescue team burst into the room and started demanding explanations. They were very loud, very condescending and very unsympathetic. Comments were thrown around that implied it was all Radek’s fault for trying to fix an access panel that didn’t really need fixing in the first place, which of course was preposterous. Just because something worked was no reason not to make it work better.

“If people like you were in charge mankind would not have progressed past the wheel! ‘Why bother, it gets my turnips to the market.’ You are a… a… wheel-man! Round and round goes you mind but never outside box, no!” He was mixing his metaphors. Nevertheless, the hulking marine looked intimidated and was slowly inching behind Sheppard who had wisely remained non-committal.

For some reason McKay had not joined in on the fun. Radek glanced around and spotted him and Beckett standing in the corner, talking in hushed tones.

There was something there… They stood too close, like he and Rodney did when they were arguing. Except, that did not look *at all* like arguing.

He could not hear what they were saying but whatever it was it had an interesting effect on the two men. Carson was smiling almost serenely, while Rodney appeared to be getting more and more flustered by the minute. Radek watched with morbid fascination as McKay, the master of verbal acrobatics, talked himself into an acute blush and squirm.

He would have enjoyed the show more if he’d known the plot.

Just as it looked like Rodney might emulate the now-melted hatch in the wall and self-combust, Carson leaned close, his voice a low murmur of heavily-accented words, and grasped Rodney’s elbow for the briefest of moments. And just like that Rodney’s discomfort vanished like it had never been. He lifted his head up, straightened his spine and strode over to the group of soldiers, issuing orders and spitting insults all the way.

Interesting.

 

***

 

It took three hours to clean up the lab. Radek refused to help with any of it, sitting on the one remaining unfoamed furniture and pointedly stroking his computer.

After the disgruntled marines had left with their mops and buckets and big scowls, McKay shuffled over to Radek. He stood there for a while, fidgeting, and then gesticulated his way through an apology. Of course, two seconds later he had to go and ruin it all by getting his grubby hands all over the keyboard.

“It’s fine!”

“It’s sticky!”

“But it works!”

“But it’s *sticky*!”

“Functional!!”

“Sticky!!”

“Deal with it!”

And that’s when, shouting and waving his arms about, Rodney moved just so causing his collar to slip and reveal a purple batch of skin on the curve of one shoulder.

Radek stared. That was a peculiar spot to get a bruise. Unless…

His could feel his eyebrows climbing to his hairline, which, thanks to the recent events, was even higher than before.

Unless it was planted there deliberately.

Clickety-click went the pieces, snapping into place like Lego blocks.

Radek hummed under his breath.

_Egoistical astrophysicist’s connected to the – dum dum – charming medical doctor._

Rodney was looking at him with a confused frown, not convinced that he had won the argument.

“What, do I still have some of that pink stuff on me…?” He reached up to his neck. The expression spreading on Rodney’s face when his hand encountered nothing but bare skin was pure entertainment.

There was a new laptop here somewhere, Radek was sure of it.

“Well, well, well. You and Carson…”  What would have certainly been a speech full of amazing subtlety, filthy innuendo and delicately balanced blackmail trailed off before it really got started.

McKay had gone very still, arms crossed over his chest and chin jutting out defiantly. Radek was painfully familiar with the body language; usually Rodney looked like this when he knew his plan was desperate and impossible but he was going to go through with it anyway because the alternative would be far worse. Usually Rodney looked like this when he was scared.

Radek scrunched his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. He huffed and ran a hand over his hair. He opened his eyes and cast a mournful glance at his laptop. He crossed and uncrossed his arms.

None of it was helping.

Rodney was still standing on the same spot with an angry twist on his lips.

Damn.

With a sigh Radek took a couple of steps forward, opened his arms wide and pulled the other man into a brief and extremely awkward hug.

“Congratulations. I am very happy for you both.” His voice came out gruff.

Radek turned around and returned his focus on the piece of not-so-cutting-edge-anymore technology sitting forlornly on the table.

“I cannot use this, Rodney. It is sticky. And *pink*.”

There was a prolonged silence behind him as Rodney processed what had just happened.

Radek waited impatiently for him to get over it. This was no time to dwell on emotional displays, more important things needed attention.

“Yes, well. It is quite… candy-floss like in its colouring.” A warm hand settled on his shoulder for a fraction of a second before withdrawing.

They stood there, side by side, and regarded the laptop.

“Now, sticky you could work with.”

Radek chose not to dignify that with an answer.

“Sticky you could work with.” Rodney repeated with a contemplative nod. “But *pink* is quite another matter.”

Radek agreed: “Pink is unacceptable.”

“Ludicrous.”

“Undignified.”

“Girly.”

They both shuddered.

“I can’t have my second-in-command bring ridicule on the whole science department.”

“Would be bad for morale.”

“A proper decorum must be maintained.”                    




“Right.”

“Right.” With that Rodney turned to face him.

“Well, I shall order it tomorrow.” His eyes didn’t quite meet Radek’s but a small grin tugged the corners of his lips.

“Thank you.” Radek’s voice held a correct amount of sincerity and respect.

“You are welcome.” Rodney’s did too. He looked like he wanted to say something more but before he plucked the courage Radek interrupted him.

“Please not be saying anymore.” He really was quite done with all this for today, thank you very much.

“It is late. In the morning we will discuss specs of my replacement laptop.”

Rodney glanced at his watch, still looking a bit unsure.

“Good night, Rodney.” By God, the man could not take a hint.

Rodney held his gaze for a while. The expression on his face was more relaxed and open than Radek remembered ever seeing it. Except, now that he thought about it, first thing that morning.

In the end, Rodney nodded a goodnight and walked to the door. He paused at the threshold but didn’t turn around.

“Oh, and Radek.”

“Yes Rodney?”

“Thanks for the drink.” With that he hurried out.

Radek was reasonably sure he knew exactly where the man was headed.

He finally allowed a smile surface. It had been lurking for a while now.

_Dum du dudu dumduu._

With a satisfied little hum, and possibly a whistle or two, Radek snapped out the lights, plunging the lab into darkness.

The smile widened into a full-flexed grin. It appeared the cleaning operation hadn’t been thorough enough because every surface was still covered with a light sheen of pink substance. It glowed in the dark. Quite spectacularly.

The rose-tinted radiance was actually kind of pretty. Romantic even.

He left the room as it was and ambled towards the mess. Perhaps he could persuade someone to come and have a look.

After all, everyone needed to be connected to somebody.


End file.
